Carle sleeps as man by toil outdone. God sends Saint Gabriel down, the Emperor to guard. All night beside his head the Angel stands, And in a dream forebodes that 'gainst the French A battle is prepared, and its portent Explains; then glancing up tow'rd Heav'n, King Carle Sees thunder-clouds and winds, hail, raging storms And wond'rous tempests--smould'ring fire and flames Ready to burst forth. Suddenly on all His people falls the blast. Their spears with shafts Of apple-tree or ash--those shields ablaze Unto their golden rings--shafts from their points Break off--Steel helms and hauberks clash and clang. He sees his Knights in dire distress. Meantime Devouring pards and bears rush on them; snakes And vipers--dragons, fiends--and with them more Than thirty thousand griffons. 'Mong the French None can escape this hideous horde.--"Carlemagne, Come to our help!" they cry. With pity seized, Fain would he thither, but his steps are stayed: Deep from a wood a lion huge comes on. The beast is haughty, fierce and terrible, And, springing, seeks his very body out. Each wrestles with the other in his arms; But which shall fall, which stand, this no man knows. Never a jot the Emperor awakes. Aoi. CLXXXVIII. Another vision follows this: in France At Aix he is:--Upon a marble step He stands, and holds in two-fold chains a bear. From towards Ardennes he sees rush forth a pack Of thirty other bears which speak as men. They say:--"To us restore him, Sire! Not right It were that you should keep him longer; help Our kin we must."--Then from his palace runs A greyhound fair which on the verdant grass Assails the fiercer of the other beasts Before them all. The King a wond'rous fight Beholds: but who shall win or lose, none knows. This is a dream God's Angel showed to Carle, Who sleeps until the morrow's morn appeared. Aoi. CLXXXIX.